


Do The Right Thing

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Aftermath, Gen, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-29 19:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17814446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: When the smoke cleared, the dust settled, and LA was itself again, the survivors still have to go on.





	Do The Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emac66](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emac66/gifts).



> This is for emac66, who requested:   
> I'd love Hello Spike to do a Spangel for me please. Not to harsh...no non-con please. and prefer a happy end.
> 
> No non-con? Not too harsh? Have I done something to offend you?  
> Heh. Okay, well, I gave it my best shot. I decided angsty was the way to go. This is a sorta post-after the fall thing.

When the smoke cleared, the dust settled, and LA was itself again, Angel was left hollow. Spike could see it, and for once he wasn’t even moved to tease the bastard about it. No one likes knowing they were wrong. Spike’s been wrong enough times to feel for the guy, even when he feels a little betrayed. He’d counted on Angel being right, hadn’t even thought about it, just handed his trust over content in the feeling that he was doing the right thing for once. Maybe for twice, if you counted the amulet. He still couldn't feel bad about doing that.

Angel had looked at Spike, and maybe he saw a little of that betrayal I his face – Spike never could control his expressions – and Angel had turned his back on him and walked away, looking hollow.

There was aftermath. Illyria had emotional problems, and you don’t exactly turn your back on a god-king when she wants to talk about her childhood. Spike took care of Illyria. It was like rooming with a rabid tiger, but then what had he been doing for months? They moved into the Hyperion. Angel followed along, always just out of touching distance, always silent. Spike would knock on his door when he wanted to go kill things, and Angel would grab his battle ax and come along, but there was no conversation, not even a good fight. Spike tried to rile him up with talk about pirates verses ninjas, but even that tried and true conversation method only met with a shrug.

Spike came downstairs one night to find Angel standing by the front doors, looking at them like they’d insulted him.

“Peaches?”

Angel didn’t turn. “What did it feel like? To do the right thing?”

“Hell. I know you’re turning brooding into a competitive sport, but enough is enough, Angel. There are still people to save, still a world out there that…”

“I have to go back.”

Spike snorted, expecting some existential bollocks. “Back where?”

“To Wolfram and Hart.”

Silence. Spike found the nearest seat he could. “Oh.”

Angel turned then, hands in pockets, looking a little smug now that his pain was out in the open. “I’m still under contract and I can’t back out. They could fire me, but they’re choosing not to.”

Spike shook his head slowly. “Bastards.”

Angel shrugged.

“When do you have to, well, report in?”

“Now. Ish. I’m sort of having trouble walking out the door.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“I know.”

They were silent together, Spike sitting on the lobby sofa, hands in his lap, and Angel standing half-turned toward the exit, arms limp at his sides. Then Angel sighed, signaling he’d run out of time to linger, and set his hand on the door.

“So I’ll come with you,” Spike said, trying for nonchalant. Angel squinted at him. Spike shrugged and scratched his jaw. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“That’s kind of the point.” Spike jumped to his feet, loose-limbed and ready for action. “Shall we go, then?”

Angel approached Spike, one hand out to stop him. “No. You should stay here.”

“I know what I should do, Angel.”

“Illyria…”

“Can take care of herself for eight to nine hours. She’s probably too busy talking to the shower stall mold to even notice I’m gone.”

Angel looked down. “I want to know you’re safe. That you’re free from that place.”

Spike tenderly lifted Angel’s cheek. “I always was. Don’t take this weight on your shoulders alone. I’ll stand by you, yeah? Just try getting rid of me.”

Their lips hovered a few centimeters apart, but Angel broke off, shaking his head. He paced angrily. “You got to die to save the world. And live to brag about it. Me, everything I touch, no matter how I arrange things so I take the sacrifice, it’s the people around me who die.”

“Sure, it’s easy to die to save the world. It’s hard as hell living in it. You know what martyrs are, Angel? Selfish pricks. I should know.”

“I need to do this alone.”

Spike laughed. “No. You don’t.”

Angel came back to Spike, grabbed him by the shoulders, and for a moment looked like he was going to hurt him. But then he fell against him, arms wrapping around Spike, head on his shoulder. “I don’t know if I can take failing again.”

“We won’t,” Spike said, and knew it was a lie. He patted Angel’s back and gently eased him back. “You want to know how it feels to do the right thing, Liam? It feels like this. Just like this.” And Spike took Angel’s hand and led him out the door.


End file.
